The Lads From Gallifrey
by scifigeekgirl
Summary: AU Nine, Ten and Eleven are members of a band. When singer and musician Jimmy Stones comes along, they know there will be trouble but, there's something about Stones girlfriend, Rose Tyler that catches their attention. Will the group get Rose away from Stones evil clutches and teach him a lesson? Will Harry Saxon ever stop that infernal drumming?


a/n: This is story was written as a collaboration by timelord1, a_who_in_whoville and myself for our beloved, most awesome and totally talented aintafraidanoghosts. Happy Birthday Hon! Oh, and this is a multi era Doctor AU story where 9, 10, 11 are members of a boy band and...well stuff happens!

Disclaimer: We do not own Doctor Who or any of these lovely characters

A few cars still in need of repair sat with their hoods up in Patel's Auto Repair garage, which was shut down for the night as the sounds of musical instruments being tuned and strummed echoed. A group of lanky, scruffy or slightly geeky looking young men were chatting, glaring or throwing wads of paper at one another as the scent of curry drifted in from the Indian Restaurant next to the garage.

The oldest of the group was Johnny Noble. He sat back in his jeans, green jumper and old worn leather jacket strumming his electric bass guitar, ignoring the rough housing and noise of the others. He had a serious, quiet almost dangerous air about him, his blue eyes reflected a young life that had known its share of trouble. He was young but no one would ever describe the tall, muscled lean young man as _boy_. He sat back watching the others and glaring at some of their antics.

The loudest of the group was Ian Stewart. His freckled face and spiky hair along with his penitent for wearing pin stripe suits set him apart as the pretty boy rocker who had the girls swooning, not that he noticed. He was slightly oblivious, especially when playing his bright blue guitar, which he lovingly named _Sexy_. Right now he was babbling a mile a minute with Johnny's sister, Donna. Donna Noble was a fiery ginger who didn't take guff from anyone and especially not Ian. Not that they disliked each other, but they enjoyed bantering and snipping about every subject imaginable. It drove Johnny mad but he tolerated it since Donna was his sister and even if he wanted to smack the pretty off of Ian, he didn't. After all, no one wanted to be on Donna's bad side, ever.

Harry Saxon was on the drums beating away at some beat only he understood. He looked like a worn out rock star with short dirty blonde hair, scruff covered jaws and red rimmed eyes filled with a barely leashed rage and disdain and dressed in a worn out "Screw U" t-shirt and old worn jeans. He was a class-A wanker and everyone agreed on that fact but he added a certain grit to the group and no one could put on a show and pound drums they way he could. Harry, who insisted on being known as The Master, seemed to particularly enjoy annoying Ian. It was like he was obsessed with him. Johnny, on more than one occasion, had smashed him against a wall with a warning to mind his manors. The Master just smirked and asked him how rough he liked it.

John Smith was the quiet one of the group. He was the picture of a geek, wearing a tweed coat and bow tie, all long limbs, floppy hair and tripping over everything. Not that he didn't have his own following. Apparently, an awkward, old school, geek type that played tambourine, mandolin or the fiddle attracted the adoration of the underground blogger crowd and they sort of worshiped him and even dedicated a website to Tweed as he was known.

There were others, Mickey who helped with their sound equipment and his girlfriend Martha who was naturally able to identify pitch and tone and was often known to let them know when they were off key, even while she was studying for exams at their rehearsals. It was a good group who enjoyed their Celtic New Age rock vibe and was slowly developing a following but hadn't quite made it yet. That was all about to change according to Mickey. He had found someone he said would help them make it big, a singer by the name of Jimmy Stones. Mickey said he was wildly popular in the club scene and it so happened he was dating Mickey's childhood best mate, Rose, so he had an in. The group was due to meet Jimmy that night to see if their styles meshed.

Johnny was dubious about the whole thing but the rest of the group was enthusiastic, always looking for something new and exciting even if adding this new member caused trouble for them. They all were a bit of trouble magnets anyway.

When Jimmy Stones came swaggering in dressed in black leather, chrome and designer torn jeans, the picture of a punk fresh out of Henrik's young rock star department, Johnny and Donna rolled their eyes. Of course, when the group saw Rose walk in curled up next to him dressed in low rise jeans, trainers, a tight low cut white cardigan with a pink hoody with a Bad Dog logo on the back in rhinestones, any eye rolling came to a halt. Rose had shoulder length bleached blonde hair, thick mascara coated eyes and a smile that lit up the whole garage. She immediately said a friendly "hello" to everyone while Jimmy looked bored and sneered at their equipment.

"Everyone, this is Jimmy Stones and my mate, Rose Tyler," Mickey introduced enthusiastically.

Johnny walked up to him with attitude. "Stones," he said tersely and turned to Rose with a bored look, expecting some vacant vapid bored little estate girl. "Rose."

Rose grinned at him. "Nice to meet ya! Thanks for lettin' me stop by. I'm so excited to hear you play live!" she gushed. "I love Celtic music and grew up listening to Donovan."

Johnny raised his eyebrows at that. Clearly there was more to Rose Tyler than met the eye. It was rare to find a girl her age with an interest in such a classic band. Of course, her warm smile might have melted away some of his typical apathetical attitude. Jimmy, it appeared, did not appreciate Rose's taste or the fact that she expressed an opinion. He glared at her and she looked down and almost seemed to shrink back toward him. Johnny immediately stared hard at Jimmy, not liking him one bit.

Ian bounced up next. "Hello!" he greeted with a huge grin. "Micks has been telling us all about you, both of you," he said and his eyes glued on Rose who gave him a shy smile.

"Of course he has," Jimmy said with attitude. "I'm the one that's gonna save your arses and from what I can see, you definitely need saving," he said as he looked around with a grimace.

John walked over, tripping over his own feet and falling into Ian. "Do we?" he asked as he pulled his hair out of his eyes. "Saving usually means one is in trouble. I don't feel in trouble and trust me I do know what trouble feels like. Don't you Ian?"

"Ohhhh, yes! I'm an expert at trouble, the top banana at trouble," he agreed, rocking back on his heels, his hands in his pockets.

"Zip it, skinny boys!" Donna commanded as she walked over in her purple sweater dress and knee high black boots and took control. "Donna Noble and I manage this lot. Micks says you've got moves. Let's see 'em Stones."

Jimmy rolled his eyes at her walked over and picked up Johnny's guitar, spinning it around and began strumming out a song. He had decent voice but it was more about his performance. He had a certain magnetism which had both Rose's and Martha's eyes glued to his hips which were doing almost obscene things. Even Mickey seemed to be nodding his head and getting into the performance.

Johnny had a storm in his eyes as the punk rocker shimmied and banged on his precious guitar, practically shagging it in front of them. The only thing holding him back was Donna who was trying to reserve her judgment. Ian pouted and sniffed that he could do that while John, leaned against the wall staring at the gyrating punk as if he was calculating the angles and mathematics behind each move.

Throughout it all, the Master had sat back staring. Eventually, he arose from behind the drums, still holding his drum sticks which he tapped in a rhythm against his hip while he stalked around the young punk star. When Jimmy finished with a flurry and Rose was jumping up and down applauding and running over to snog him, the Master made his move. Jimmy shoved Rose off of him with a terse, "Later baby and Jimmy'll show you some real music." He turned to the Master. "So what's your gig? The grunge look is so yesterday." he said with derision.

As the Master took a step toward him as if he was going to shove the drumsticks down Jimmy's throat, Ian stepped in between them. "Oh the Master's our demented drummer. You know how mad percussionists are. Always on about destruction and mayhem. Come on Master, I think the pizza's here and you look a bit…peaked," he said as he guided the Master away.

The Master looked at Ian with an evil smirk. "I love it when you say my name," he drawled as he walked away shooting a dangerous look over his shoulder at Jimmy.

"Right, let's break for dinner and then we'll put Jimmy in with the rest of the group and see how it goes," Donna announced and herded everyone toward pizza.

Jimmy wrinkled his nose a plate Donna shoved at him and grabbed a bottle of beer instead, taking a long swig and forgoing the pizza.

Ian walked over to Rose with a plate and slice of his favorite pizza. "Sausage with banana peppers!" he declared with a bright grin.

"Oh, I've never tried that. Sounds good," she declared enthusiastically. Jimmy grabbed the plate from her hands and tossed it aside.

"I don't think so, babe. You're lookin' a little thick around the middle. Can't have you gettin' fat, it's bad for my image," he said and looked at her pointedly.

At first Rose looked ready to slap him but then she looked down at herself unsure.

Ian turned a glare on Jimmy, his eyes black with anger. "I think Rose looks beautiful the way she is and if she wants a slice a pizza she should have it."

"It's all right," Rose said quickly sensing the tension. "I'm not real hungry anyway." Jimmy smirked at this and looked triumphantly at Ian. Ian and everyone else in the room looked at Rose who sat by Jimmy quietly sipping her diet soda. Ian's eyes met Johnny's and an understanding was reached between them. They would all be keeping an eye on Rose.

The session went as well as could be expected with Johnny glaring at Jimmy, Ian trying to add some of Jimmy's moves to his routine and show him up, the Master trying to subtly throw the beat off and John ignoring everyone and doing his own spastic moves while playing the fiddle.

Donna had lectured all of them about this being a band and they were to be playing together not competing and then asked Jimmy if he wanted to play a gig with them at The Vortex, a local pub where they had a small following. He agreed but insisted they include more hard edged new wave music and wanted to change their name. Donna had said they'd talk about that after their first performance.

The group arrived early to set up and practice. Well, everyone except Jimmy showed up early. He decided he didn't need to be there until an hour before the show. When he arrived, he had Rose at his side dressed in black tights, knee boots, a ripped denim mini skirt, denim jacket and hair in braids with a multi colored scarf wrapped around her neck. The band all stopped to look at her but Ian in particular seemed unable to look away.

Johnny glared at Jimmy. "You're late!" He snarled and went back to his sound check. Jimmy ignored him and instead focused on the stage and crowd.

Rose was giddy with excitement and it showed all over her face. She walked over to Ian and admired his guitar. "That's gorgeous," she breathed.

Ian beamed at her. "This is Sexy," he said proudly.

Rose looked at him with a twinkle in her eye. "Definitely, sexy," she said with a flirtatious smile. Ian waggled his eyebrows at her in response.

"Oi, Rose!" Jimmy yelled. "This isn't a social! Go out there and get me a drink!"

Rose smiled at all of them and mouthed "Sorry" and left.

John walked over to Ian. "I think I Donna could use an assistant and Rose would fit the bill. Don't you think? Then, she wouldn't have time to be indulging the unappreciative vain, lothario."

Ian winked at John. "Let's have a chat with the ginger general, shall we?"

The gig went better than expected and afterward the when the boys were packing up, Jimmy started spouting off how he was gonna make them famous but the name was rubbish. "The Oneders just isn't doin it. Now the Two Timers, that's got some snap to it," he bragged as he downed his whiskey and looked around for Rose who had disappeared with Donna.

"Two Timers?" John remarked. "Makes us sound we're all cheaters or philanders or something equally awful."

Jimmy grinned at them and he winked. "Oh come on John! We all do it, you know play around. We're musicians, it's our thing to always be on the lookout for the next muse and it's not like there's a lack of willing bodies out there." He paused and looked at the angry expressions of the band. "Well, at least not for me but who knows. Stick with me and you all might get lucky."

It took all of Ian's self-control not to walk over and punch Jimmy in the face. Johnny didn't have that self-control and just as he was walking over, Rose and Donna walked back. "You're lucky Stones," he said in a threatening manner.

Stones just scoffed. "Yeah, right."

"All right you lot, Rose is my new assistant which means all of you better pay attention when she talks. Treat her like you would me and that means no mouthin' off and no more fetchin' drinks when you should be practicing, not drinkin," she said and glared at Jimmy."

"Assistant?" Jimmy snorted. "Whadda you think she's gonna assist with anyway? She's got plenty to do for me and as matter of fact it's about time we shoved off so she can _assist me_. Right baby?" he said with a leer.

Rose blushed and apologized to Donna and promised it would be okay as she helped a very drunken Jimmy get home. The rest of the band stayed for a quick chat and all agreed they needed to help Rose get away from him. This became even more of a priority when Rose showed up to one of their gigs with a red mark on her face. She insisted she ran into a door but everyone knew better. Donna pulled her aside after that to talk to her but Rose kept insisting she was fine.

The band kept playing under the new name The Gallifreyan Lads and soon caught the attention of Torchwood Records, which invited them to a battle of the bands. The winning band was awarded a contract with Torchwood. It was the night they learned about this that Jimmy loudly and drunkenly took credit for it and then snuck out with some young tarty blonde leaving Rose behind. The band watched Jimmy leave and shot each other annoyed looks. By this time, they all hated him. When Ian saw Rose looking for Jimmy back stage, he ran over to her.

"Hello," Ian greeted Rose with as much cheer as he could muster, given the fact that the two-timing git, Jimmy had just run off with a walking human Petri dish of disease. He certainly didn't want Jimmy passing any of that off to sweet Rose Tyler.

"Have you seen Jimmy?" she asked, craning to look over Ian's shoulder.

Ian nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh Rose, he's not here. He left."

Rose furrowed her brow, pursed her lips and nodded before blowing air through her lips. She barked a laugh and then sat down, defeated, on rickety three-legged stool. "Well, he made good on his promise then. Said if I was even a minute late he was gonna take off without me. Do you think you could give me a lift? He said he couldn't be late to that-"

"Rose, I don't think you understand." Ian pulled up another stool and sat down. "He left _with_ someone. A blonde."

"Oh. Well, that's nothing new," she waved her hand blithely. "Women are always throwing themselves at him. He humors 'em, but then he comes back to me, apologizes and we move on." She laughed, but there was a layer of hurt under her words.

"And that's okay with you?" asked Ian, confused.

"No. Not really," Rose said quietly, looking down at her hands as she began to nervously pick the sparkly blue nail varnish off of her fingernails. She abruptly changed the subject. "Congratulations on being invited to that Torchwood gig. You guys sounded brilliant tonight," she said sincerely as she gave him her brightest smile.

"Thanks. I feel like there's still something missing, though," Ian said, looking off in the distance. "I don't know... it's like there's still another layer of sound that we need to get that fullness that I keep hearing in my head."

"You mean like bringing in another instrument or layering a different voice?" she asked.

Ian's face grew animated, knowing that Rose understood music. "When I hear the music in my head when I'm writing or arranging, it's like it sounds...different. More...complex. We used to have a fiddler. Her name was Romana. Was fantastic, too. She could play the fiddle like you wouldn't believe."

"The Gallifreyan Lads... and Lass ...sort of has a ring to it, yeah?" When she smiled, a hint of her pink tongue appeared between her teeth.

Ian had not spent much time alone with Rose Tyler, not for lack of wanting to. Stones kept her on a short leash. If she so much as looked at another bloke, he would call her name, ask her to do something for him, or paw at her. Ian's mouth went dry at the sight of that tongue, and he began to imagine what sort of things those lips of hers could do.

"What happened to her?" asked Rose, bringing him out of his reverie.

"She left us to play violin in the BBC Radio Symphony. Classical was much more her style than this..._whatever_ it is, we play," he said with a chuckle.

"Oh, but I love your style! It's brilliant. The richness of sounds from all those different cultures and musical styles...it's fantastic, really! All Jimmy wants to do is make his guitar screech and pose like some leather-clad sex god. His playing hurts my ears most of the time, to be honest."

Ian laughed at the image that Rose portrayed. "We brought another fiddler in for a while, and she was great, but she left as well. Have had four or five fiddlers since Romana. They always leave," he said sadly. "Finally gave up on finding someone new, and John decided to teach himself to play. He's pretty good, even. Jimmy is the first new blood since then. We thought we would try a different sound. Between you and me and the wall," he wrinkled his nose, "I don't think he's working out."

"Between you, me and the wall, I agree," Rose said, bumping his shoulder with her own. "But don't tell Jimmy that, he'd..." Rose stopped herself, and her face fell.

"What, Rose?" Ian asked, immediately concerned. She ignored him. "Why do you stay with him, Rose? You are so much better than him," he said, voice soft.

"Oi, Ian, been looking for you. You coming along to the pub?" Johnny asked as he approached the pair.

"I was just about to ask Rose if she needed me to drive her home," he said, not wanting to give away the fact that Jimmy had left with another woman.

"I'll take the bus," she said with confidence.

"Where's Jimmy then?" asked Johnny.

"He...left," said Ian, continuing to be discreet.

"I really don't care if Johnny knows, Ian." She turned to Johnny. "Jimmy left with another woman."

"I thought I saw a blonde hanging onto him after the show. Was she that that mangy looking bint with the slag tag that said 'Bite Me'?" asked Johnny, crossing his arms angrily.

Ian cringed and nodded.

Rose frowned, trying hard to look more irritated than hurt. "That would be Cassandra, then," she muttered under her breath. "She's been trying to bag Jimmy for a while now. Well I hope he has his fun. Everyone's had a chance to jump on that trampoline."

"Well, from where I'm sitting, that ain't right," Johnny added. "Come on then. Up with you Rose Tyler. We're gonna take you out. Hey John Smith, get over here!" he hollered at the floppy-haired fellow, who was polishing his penny whistle. "I've decided we are going to take Rose here out for some fun, and try and convince her to end it with Stones."

Rose rolled her eyes at Johnny, and shook her head, tossing her bleach blonde braid over a shoulder.

The tweed-wearing musician spun on his heel and loped over to his bandmates. "I was going to go home and make custard."

"Custard schmustard," Johnny chided.

"Where are Saxon, Mr. Mickey, Martha and Donna?" asked Ian.

"Harry left to crawl under whatever rock he calls home these days, Mickey and Martha said something about catching some new film about husband and wife alien hunters, and Donna went home with a splitting headache," reported Johnny.

Johnny smiled at Rose, and offered his left arm in invitation. Ian followed suit, offering his right arm, and Rose accepted them both gladly, walking between the two with a smile on her face. John trailed behind, content to continue polishing his penny whistle.

oOo

The next evening, the group gathered in the garage to practice. Donna and Mickey were arguing in the corner over a new piece of sound equipment he claimed was fundamentally necessary for the success of the band at the upcoming Torchwood competition. John was playing an irritating melody on his Irish Uilleann pipes, a smaller version of bagpipes that helped contribute to the band's distinct Celtic vibe. Johnny was thrumming a percussive bass line on his well-worn, black Gibson. Harry sat at his drum kit, glaring at no one in particular from under his black hood, but still managing to make everyone in the room feel uneasy. With his sticks, he quietly tapped a downbeat to music only he heard in his head. The tension in the room seemed to increase each time the stick touched the skin of the snare.

"Rose Tyler, front and center!" Ian called loudly, standing next to the keyboard.

Rose's head snapped away from the sloppy snog that Jimmy had pulled her into behind a stack of oil drums in the back of the garage.

"What the hell does that poofter want with you?" Jimmy asked, pulling Rose against him, hard.

"Don't call him that, he's nice! And how should I know? I won't know until I go out there, now will I?" she said, braver than usual.

The night before, the boys from the band had treated her differently than any other men in her life. She had felt safe them, empowered even. They had listened to her, and valued her suggestions.

In turn, the three men had learned some interesting things about Rose. Not only was she sweet, kind, funny, but without Jimmy holding her back, she was not afraid to speak her mind, and she proudly told them that she was a musician in her own right. It was how she had met Jimmy in the first place, though he never acknowledged her talent. She had downplayed her abilities to Johnny, John and Ian, of course, but the boys had a feeling about her, and they decided to surprise everyone the next day, her most of all.

She smiled and pulled herself away from Jimmy.

"Oi! Where do ya think you're going?" Jimmy grabbed her by the arm, and held on with vise-like strength.

"Let go of me Jimmy, you're hurting me," she said loud enough for everyone in the garage to hear.

He released her with a flourish and followed her out into the main area of the garage.

"Why's there a keyboard over there?" asked Jimmy. "We ain't no symphony. We're rock 'n roll baby!" he said with swagger as he pulled Rose into him and thrust into her suggestively.

Rose pushed him away, growing ever more disgusted with the pretty boy.

"Thought we'd try something new," said Johnny. "Last night, while you were banging that bint Cassandra, Rose here told us that she can play the piano and she sings. So...show us your moves, Rose Tyler." He crossed his arms and stared.

"But...uh...I've never..." she said, letting nerves creep back as Jimmy glared at her.

"Course you ain't gonna do it, you ain't no musician," Jimmy said, smirking.

Rose looked at Johnny, who nodded, encouraging her to begin to play. She took one step closer to the keyboard. Ian pressed a few buttons on the electronic instrument, selecting the proper setting.

"I'm telling you, we don't need no bloody piano in the band," Jimmy yelled. His face was red, and the veins in his neck were popping. He pulled a flask out of his pocket and took a swig.

"And we want to hear her play." Johnny put down his bass guitar, and shed his black leather coat, moving towards Jimmy. "Go ahead Rose, play something pretty for us." Johnny never took his eyes off of Jimmy as he spoke.

"She can't play worth rubbish. I ain't never heard her play once the whole time we've been together." He took another swig of cheap vodka. "

"Rose. Play something, and we'll follow you," Ian said kindly, but with an edge to his voice that set the short hairs on the back of Jimmy's neck on end.

She cleared her throat and sat behind the keyboard. Jimmy crossed his arms and stared at her. She breathed in and out a few times, cracked her knuckles and put her hands on the keys. "How about _Lucky in Love_? Do you blokes know that one?" Her voice quaked.

"Oh, I love that song!" Ian said with fervor as he slung his guitar over his shoulders.

"A wee bit twee for my tastes," Johnny complained unconvincingly from the rear as he picked up his bass guitar and turned on the amp. No one saw the small smile on his lips as he did so.

Jimmy firmly refused to pick up his electric guitar.

"The lady asked nicely for us to play along. Now play," Johnny commanded, as he began to thrum a baseline, his icy blue eyes staring at Jimmy's back.

Harry pulled out his djembe and nestled it between his legs, slapping it rhythmically. John looked through his odd mixture of instruments and decided upon a mandolin, and began to strum. Ian and Rose came in together, at the nod of Rose's head. And then Rose began to sing...

_"Do you hear me? I'm talking to you, across the water across the deep blue ocean, under the open sky, oh my, baby I trying..."_

"This is bollocks!" Jimmy shouted. "Since when do we play chick music?" He strode over to Rose. "Don't ruin this for me, woman."

Rose stopped singing and playing. "Ruin what, Jimmy? You afraid the groupies won't wanna shag the boy who plays chick music?"

Jimmy raised his hand to slap her but Johnny's quick reflexes anticipated him, and he grabbed his wrist, his guitar cast aside without regard, more concerned for Rose.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Johnny said with menacing coldness.

John shoved his penny whistle into the pocket of his tweed jacket. The Master stood up from his drum kit, and kicked over the high hat. A fight was about to break out and he loved nothing more than a good brawl.

"You're nothing but talk, Noble," Jimmy spat with a laugh. "You won't do nothing. Rose is - "

No one ever did get to find out what Jimmy thought Rose was, as in the next second he was lying in a heap against the Master's drum kit, his lower lip split wide open. Johnny had time to set his bass down before Jimmy ran at him, throwing his arms around Johnny's waist in what should have been a spectacular tackle.

John laughed so hard at the result that he dropped his mandolin. "I thought that only happened in cartoons."

Johnny hadn't moved, and was looking down at Jimmy's straining, running attempt to knock him over with bemused annoyance.

"Go down, ye great bastard!" Jimmy shouted, digging his shoes in.

Johnny rolled his eyes and grabbed Jimmy by the back of the neck, squeezing until the pretty boy screeched and stopped his assault. Johnny wrenched Jimmy backwards so that they were looking one another in the eye.

"Unlike you," Johnny said softly, "I learned how to fight doin' six months in Ashfield Prison, not by playin' Punch Out on the Nintendo and fancyin' myself a badass. You're out, Stones. Take your Hot Topic jacket and get your worthless arse out of here." He shoved Jimmy away from him, sending him backwards towards Ian. Ian, in perfect position to stop Jimmy's stumbling, stepped aside so that he fell flat on his back.

"You're nothing without me," Jimmy said, scrambling to his feet. "Hope you like the acoustics inside this garage, because you're never gonna leave it! C'mon, Rose. Right now."

"Rose stays," Ian said darkly. After a second, he turned to her. "If…if you want to."

Rose took a deep breath and let it out slowly, staring Jimmy down. "I want to. Thanks."

Jimmy snorted with disgust. "You have no business bein' in this band. There's only thing you're good for, and you ain't even that good."

The Master shoved his way out from behind the drums to join Ian, Johnny and John in their advance on Jimmy. Jimmy took several backwards steps away from them, only to run into Mickey and Donna.

"I can point the door out to you," Donna said, smiling sweetly, "Or I can throw you through it."

"Piss off," Jimmy barked, wiping his bleeding lip on his sleeve. "Good luck at the battle of the bands, losers. You're on a bullet train to nowhere." He pushed his way to the door and slammed it behind him as hard as he could.

Silence fell on the garage and everyone stood frozen for an indeterminate amount of time before a series of chords rang out from the keyboard. Slowly everyone turned to look at Rose, who had a thoughtful look on her face as she played the chord progression over and over.

"_You're on a bullet train to nowhere," _she sang softly. "_Waiting for your stop to come…_"

Ian beamed, elbowing the Master in the ribs. He shrugged and went back behind his kit, adding a slow rhythm to the chord progression. Johnny stood, bobbing his head to the tune, until he picked up his bass and added tentative notes to the bass line. John jumped back in with the mandolin after a few moments, and Ian joined Rose at the keyboard, adding notes what she was playing and singing harmony to her words.

Donna slapped Mickey on the chest and pointed to her clipboard and whipped out her mobile, turning on the sound recorder. Mickey took down the lyrics as the band came up with them, and slowly the tune evolved from a slow, plodding thing to a bouncing, almost joyful anthem for getting over the wrong one and opening up the door for the right one to come in. By the time the song was finished, Ian and Rose were singing a duet throughout, with Johnny and John adding harmonies at the chorus that gave the song an almost Beatles-like feel. They ran through it several more times, Donna's grin expanding with every run-through.

She turned to Mickey as the band reached the climax of the song. "Torchwood, here we come!" she cried. They grabbed hands and began dancing to the undeniably catchy rhythm. The band rose to a giddy frenzy, John spinning wildly around as he played until he fell over an amplifier and everyone else had to stop playing for laughing at him.

As the rest of the band cheered and congratulated one another (and helped John to his feet), Ian and Rose were staring at one another with awestruck smiles.

"You're brilliant," Ian said softly. Rose looked shyly away and shrugged.

"I dunno," she said.

"No!" he insisted, putting his hand gently on her cheek to turn her back to him. "Look what you did just now. You wrote a song."

"You all helped."

Ian shook his head. "You were the muse that got us going. You're the thing I…_we've_ needed all along."

They had time to share one more tentative look between them before the rest of the band descended and the celebration began.

"That song is gonna win us that battle, hands down!" the Master cried. "I mean, couldn't you just hear it playing on the radio? Starts off all soft and girly and emo, and then…here come the drums!" He started playing the air drums and twirling around as everyone stared at him. He stopped his little dance and smoothed out his hoodie, clearing his throat. "Sorry."

Rose stepped away from Ian and took Johnny by the hand, leading him a little ways away from the group. "Thank you for standin' up for me," she said.

Johnny lost the fight against smiling at her, his cheeks flaring red. "Ah, you'da handled him if I hadn't stepped in."

"Yeah, but nobody's ever done that for me before," she said, stretching up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. "It meant a lot to me."

"You're worth it," he said, giving her a wink before turning to fuss with his bass. Rose saw him rest his hand briefly on the spot where she'd kissed him before John picked her up and danced her goofily around the garage. She counted herself lucky to have made it back to the group without falling inside one of the open bonnets before he finally let her go.

"All right, that's enough!" Donna cried. "Don't go breaking our secret weapon before we have a chance to unleash her on the world tomorrow night!"

"Sorry," John said stiffly, nodding an apology to Rose before stepping back to buff his mandolin.

"Okay, now, you lot are all going straight home and straight to bed," Donna said. "Get plenty of rest for tomorrow night. It's not like our entire future as a band hinges on this one night, but…it sort of does. So get to bed!"

Rose sighed as they began breaking down instruments to take them to the battle the next night. She looked at the door where Jimmy had left and felt tears pricking the corners of her eyes. How had she thrown so much of her life away on someone like him, when there were guys like the Gallifreyan Lads out there? Ian in particular. There was something about the gleam in his big brown eyes that made her feel ways Jimmy had never been able to make her feel. He'd called her brilliant, and she was sure that if they'd been left alone a few moments longer, she might have given into the temptation to kiss him.

"Hey," Ian's voice whispered in her ear. "You all right?"

She turned and found herself entirely too close to his lips. She couldn't stop looking at them, entranced by their shape and wondering if they were as soft as they looked.

Ian had said something. Asked her a question; was she all right. "Yeah," she managed at last. "'M fine."

"You want somebody to walk you home?" he asked, offering her his hand.

She hesitated only a moment before clasping his hand and letting him lead her out into the night.

The hall that was to be home to the Torchwood competition was mad with activity by the time the band arrived. They were to play last, and had decided to leave their secret weapon song to the very last. There were five other bands slated to play; the Cybermen, a neo-retro sixties pop band; Nestene Consciousness, a group specializing in ambient folk pop; The Cult of Skaro, a heavy metal band featuring lots of screaming and face paint; The Racnoss, an all-girl hardcore punk band; and a group called The Silence, which was composed of several skinny boys in matching black suits.

"I think I've heard the Silence before," John said from his perch on one of their stack amplifiers. "Not very memorable, though."

"Yeah, well, nobody's gonna remember anyone but us after tonight," Ian said. He and Rose had walked in with their arms around one another, and hadn't let one another go for more than a few seconds since.

They were going over their set list and determining who would sing Jimmy's part on the songs when an incredibly handsome man with a Hollywood smile walked up to them.

"Hi there, how's everybody doing tonight?" he asked, eyes fixing immediately on Rose. "I'm sure you've heard of me. Doctor Love? I'm with Torchwood Records, and I'm judging the battle tonight. Just wanted to wish you guys good luck, and we're looking forward to seeing what you have to offer."

"Thank you," Donna said, easing into her role as manager/spokesperson. "We're excited for the chance to play for you."

"I bet you are," Dr. Love said with a wink. Donna lowered her eyes and giggled and the promoter walked away.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Johnny cried, popping her in the shoulder. He did an exaggerated impression of her demure little giggle, making the other band members laugh.

"Oi, stuff it," she snapped, pinching him in the side. "Any bloke that calls himself Doctor Love and likes winkin' at girls _wants_ that kind of response. So I gave it to him, to make a good impression."

Johnny rolled his eyes. "See that's all that you give him, all right? Otherwise you're likely to need a shot of penicillin."

Donna smacked him in the chest and the two began playfully fighting until John cleared his throat and hopped down from his spot on the amplifier. Everyone looked at him and he nodded, raising his eyebrows, in the direction of the Cult of Skaro.

Jimmy Stones, wearing brand new torn jeans, a Cult of Skaro t-shirt and a smear of white paint across his face, was helping the band set up. He paused in the middle of adjusting his microphone and smirked at the group across the way.

"Didn't know Jimmy sang metal," John said softly.

"Thing is, you don't _sing_ metal," Ian muttered. "You scream it, mostly in key."

Rose shrugged. "Perfect for him, then. Come on, let's get set up."

It was a couple of hours before their turn to play, and they spent most of it in an alley outside the hall. John paced, Harold knocked out rhythms on the bricks with his drumsticks, Johnny leaned against a wall and napped, and Rose and Ian walked to the end of the alleyway to sit on a low cement wall to talk. The night before he had walked her home and they had gotten into a conversation that had stretched into nearly two hours on Rose's front stoop before she finally went inside. When they had parted, there had been a moment where they had nearly kissed one another goodnight, but both had thought better of it. Until now they hadn't had a moment alone to discuss it.

"So, last night," Ian said, holding Rose's hand.

"Yeah," she said, leaning against him. "It was nice. I haven't talked to anybody like that in a very long time."

"Me either," Ian said. "Unless you count Johnny, but that's mostly about music and how stupid people are."

Rose laughed. "Was he really in Ashfield Prison for six months?" she asked.

Ian scratched the back of his neck and glanced in Johnny's direction to make sure he was still asleep. "No," he said finally. "He was sentenced to sixty days, but served forty. He's not lying about the learning to fight part, though. I guess it didn't take long for him to figure out how to survive, even if he wasn't there that long."

"What did he do?" she asked. "I mean, if you don't mind me asking."

Ian laughed a little. "Stood up for a girl. Donna, in fact, not that she needs someone to stand up for her."

Rose laughed with him. "Not at all."

"Which she pointed out quite loudly every time we went to visit him. One time we were there and she smacked him in front of the guards and they said if she did it again they might have to put _her_ behind bars."

They laughed at this and settled into a comfortable silence, Rose leaning against him with her head on his shoulder. Ian finally relaxed enough to let his head rest against the top of hers and she sighed, snuggling harder against him.

"I think I'd like to spend a lot more time talking with you like we did last night," he said at last.

"Me too," she said.

"Maybe we could do it again tomorrow night, but over dinner instead of sitting on cold cement."

Rose pulled away and smiled up at him. "That sounds very nice."

"Good," he said softly, drawing her back to his side. They sat together, quietly marveling at how easy it was to simply be together, until Harold ran up to them, breathless and beaming.

"Jimmy's blowing it! You've got to come see!" he cried, pulling Ian and Rose to their feet. The rest of the band was already back inside, and Rose and Ian came in to a chorus of booing as people in the crowd began throwing things at the Cult of Skaro's new frontman.

"Ah, what do you buggers know anyway?" he shouted into the microphone. A second later a gigantic cup full of soda flew through the air and hit him squarely in the face. He loosed a stream of obscenities, stomping around the stage, before throwing his microphone on the ground and storming off. The other members of the band chased after him, out the door and into the alley.

"What a waste of a Coke," Johnny said, wiping his hands on his jeans. He paused a moment, considering. "Well, maybe it was worth three quid after all."

A moment later Doctor Love approached the microphone. "Well, I would say that about does it for the Cult of Skaro. We've got one group left in tonight's Torchwood Records battle of the bands, and that is the Lads from Gallifree!"

"Galli_frey_!" John shouted at the stage, rolling his eyes.

"My mistake; Gallifrey. We'll give them a couple of minutes to set up, and then we'll have our last contestant!" Doctor Love concluded.

It didn't take the band long to finish setting up. Just before they were ready to go on, they stood together in a circle, arms around one another.

"This is it, lads," Harold said. "Might just be our ticket out of that smelly garage."

"Oi, I like the way it smells," Johnny bit back.

"Just stay together and trust one another," John said, eyeing Rose. "We've got our new secret weapon to bring us home."

"No matter what happens," Ian said, "It's always a pleasure to play with you all."

"Oh, that's just disgusting," Harold snorted, pulling out of the hug. "Screw this group love kumbaya stuff and let's rock the hell out of this place!" He bounded to his spot on the drums and began counting down the beat to the first song with his sticks. The crowd had several of their fans in it and they gave the band a warm reception, but it took until halfway through the first song for the rest of the crowd to get involved. By the time they reached the final song, it was clear that the Lads from Gallifrey had won the night. Rose's song just clinched the deal.

****One Year Later****

"All right you lot, get in your spots!" Donna Noble-Harkness shouted, clutching her iPad and clacking through the soundstage in ridiculously high-heeled boots. "We've got to finish this up before one – we've got Top of the Pops tonight and our call time is three-thirty. Unless you want to skip lunch _again_."

"As you command, Mrs. Love," John said, snapping a salute.

"Keep your hands away from your hair," Donna sniped. "Just because they got it out of your face doesn't mean it'll stay there. And Johnny, just sit on your hands! They have to put makeup on you, or you'll wash out in the lights! How many times do I have to tell you?"

Johnny glared from his seat and did as he was told, scowling at Lynda, the trembling makeup girl.

"And where's Ian and Rose?" Donna whinged, spinning around to find them.

"Shagging, no doubt," Johnny remarked, ducking away once more from Lynda's ministrations.

"I'm where I'm supposed to be," Harold said, giving his sticks a twirl. He looked across the soundstage at his fiancée, Lucy, and waggled his fingers in an adorable wave. She waved back, giggling, and sat down in a chair to wait.

Donna walked past Lucy and patted her on the shoulder. "You must have super powers of some sort to tame the Master." Before Lucy could answer, Donna was off again, bellowing Ian and Rose's names.

A moment later there was a rustling from behind a curtain and the couple fell out, still locked in a passionate embrace. Donna bustled over and began smacking them both with her iPad.

"Get in position! We're going to be late!" She gave Ian an extra smack on the bottom as he and Rose scurried to their spots on the soundstage. Donna shook her head, muttering to herself about newlyweds. The next thing she knew, however, she was in the arms of her very own new husband as he planted a kiss on her.

"There is always time for love," he whispered.

"Oi, don't use your catch phrase on me, sunshine!" Donna shouted, wrestling out of his arms.

The band got into position on the set, which was decorated to resemble Patel's Auto Garage.

"Ah, the irony," Harold sighed. "Work that hard to get out of the garage, just to make our way back to it. At least this one smells better."

"Oi," Johnny warned.

"That's enough talk," Mickey said from behind the camera. "Let's get this going – I've got Bruno Mars comin' in after you lot, and he's a lot less high-maintenance than you girls."

After a quick countdown, the Gallifreyan Lads (and Lass) broke into "Hearts in Time," the follow-up to their multi-platinum hit single "Bullet Train To Nowhere." It was a song about two people who met, and though they'd only known each other a short time, felt as if they'd known each other for all time. Ian and Rose had written it together on their wedding night, in between other activities.

And as I can't come up with a clever ending, I will simply say that they were very very happy, and everyone made out. A lot.


End file.
